


Loki Unchained

by spatialsoloist, Voodooling



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Norse Mythology, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF! Loki, BAMF! Tony Stark, Badass bromance turned romance, Bounty Hunters, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:23:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spatialsoloist/pseuds/spatialsoloist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voodooling/pseuds/Voodooling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by Django Unchained.<br/>--<br/>When the world ended, it couldn’t even be arsed to go out with a bang. </p><p>Snap.</p><p>Just like that.</p><p>Eight years later Tony Stark, self-proclaimed bounty hunter, has a pleasant run in with a few fire jötunn that ends in copious amounts of blood and gore.</p><p>Oh, and Loki.</p><p>Damn it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [TUMBLR](http://voodooling.tumblr.com/?tag=loki%20unchained)  
> A collab with my friend Spatialsoloist (on tumblr)! Written by her, illustrated and conceptualized by me (Voodooling).

 

——

When the world ended, it couldn’t even be arsed to go out with a bang. Many people who lived on planet Earth thought that the apocalypse would mean months of hell-fire and earthquakes and rising tides, but they would be sorely disappointed. The Earth would just simply…end.

Snap.

Just like that. Faster than an intake of breath, quicker than a heartbeat. But in less than a second all Tony Stark could see while floating in space, surrounded by pieces of his suit, was the giant spinning chunk of space rock that he’d called home shatter into tiny particles. The tiny bits of Earth gleamed in the powerful light from the sun like dust floating by a window on a Sunday afternoon. It was beautiful, in its own morbid way; a peaceful death.

Then the shock-wave hit, and that last thing Tony remembered before the air was crushed from his lungs and he was tossed away like a rag-doll was:

And there she goes.

Planet Earth, home of the humans, was gone.

But, of course, it was not the only planet with living beings to inhabit the universe. Distantly, Tony felt a sinking feeling in his gut that could only mean a wretched and rough path full of pain and misery ahead for himself, the meager group of survivors from Earth and possibly any other being lurking about out there.

And Tony Stark’s gut was never, ever wrong.

 

\---  
Eight years later

To put it simply, Muspelheim was the bane of Tony’s existence. During his first trip to Florida on a promotional tour for the Stark Expo long ago, Tony learned immediately that he did not like the heat. The way the sun beat down on the nape of his neck and made beads of sweat pop up along his temple felt sticky and uncomfortable, not to mention the terrible sun burn he got ended up peeling and made Pepper snicker behind his back. To sum it all up, Tony didn’t like the heat back when he was still on Earth, and he sure as hell didn’t like it any better now, when everything was ten times more humid and stifling.

His butt was sticking to the hot metal seat of his wagon, which swayed and rolled like a boat in the water. The water canteen by his ankle had been emptied long ago, and was now prone to rolling back and forth across the footrest, making annoying clanging sounds every time it hit the side of his cart. The mechanical horse at the front of his wagon creaked in the humidity, the gears whirling noisily against one another as it labored to bring Tony up the hill.

A shape moving slowly through the heat waves in the distance shook Tony from his stupor. The scorching, blazing light that peeked through the thick clouds and illuminated the ash around the atmosphere made it difficult to see, but the misshapen lump looming steadily into focus was none other than two massive bilgesnipes, each carrying a hulking fire jötunn that sat hunched at the reins. Their muscles bulged, their backs gleamed with sweat, and from the deep grooves carved into their bodies flames burst forth and licked up the sides of their arms. Tony sat up a little straighter, pulling subconsciously at his coat as he squinted at the approaching party through his old aviator shades. Even from his position and the heat waves wafting over the ground he could see a line of slaves trudging slowly behind the bilgesnipes. There was about a half-dozen of them: a sorry looking bunch with their heads bowed, heavy chains clamped to their wrists and feet and an air of exhaustion hanging over them. Tugging on a series of levers by his side, Tony urged the mechanical horse forward with vigor, hoping to intercept their path. Apprehension made his stomach tighten a little, but adrenaline made his heart race.

 

When the jötunns caught sight of him, they were, of course, not exactly pleased at his arrival.

“Who’s that riding up the moor?” one of them barked, hefting up a thick club threateningly. “Give us yer name!”

“Calm yourself,” Tony replied soothingly as he came to a halt, steam escaping the horse with a heavy hiss. “I’m just another traveler passing by, yeah? And I happen to be looking for the slave traders Volundr and Snorri. Would that happen be you two fine gentlemen?”

The two jötunns exchanged looks. Tony was aware of the slaves peering nervously around the side of the cart, but when he turned to grin at them, all of them dropped their gazes.

“Who’s asking?” Volundr grunted, squinting suspiciously.

Tony slapped in his best million-dollar smile, and with a mock bow he said, “Well, me, of course! I’m not seeing anybody else around the ash and dust. M’name is Tony Stark, this is my — er — horse, Fritz. Now, I’ve a question for you lot. Did you purchase those slaves at the Novgorod slave market?”

“Maybe,” Snorri said suspiciously. “What’s it to you?”

“Well,” Tony said, doing his best to hold on to his patience. “I hear that there was an excellent batch of slaves coming in, and I’m looking to acquire a fine specimen for a use that would be beneficial to myself and—”

“What’re you yabberin’ on about?” Volundr interrupted, raising his club. “I don’t like the looks of you very much, Tony Stark.”

“Hey now, I’m plenty attractive! I used to be a billionaire, you know,” Tony said hotly. The jötunns stared blankly back at him.

“Oh never mind,” Tony huffed. It was like running a pop culture reference past Steve all over again. “Look here, I just want to purchase one of your slaves. I’m going to hop off my ride here, and I’m just gonna take a peek at those poor fellas back there. No harm, no foul, right, boys?”

“Now hold it right ‘ere—” Volundr started to say, but Tony was already pulling another lever that made Fritz’s nostrils exhale a thick plume of steam. While the jötunns squawked as smoke engulfed them, Tony slid off his seat and relished in taking slow, confident steps past the two bilgesnipes and towards the slaves. As he finally came close enough, he realized belatedly that they were frost giants; all of them tall with midnight blue skin, built like brick walls, and naked from the waist up with only dirty rags tied around their waists. Fiery red eyes looked down upon him, and even though Tony was sure they could give him hell if they wanted to, none of the giants moved or even so much as looked the wrong way at him. Several of them even shifted uneasily away from Tony as he walked closer, and the experience could not have felt stranger.

To be honest, none of them were what Tony was looking for, and he’d only stopped on a whim anyways. He’d heard about the traders Volundr and Snorri and their infamous (and probably illegal) ways of acquiring slaves of all kinds for trade, but he hadn’t expected them to be frost giants. Frost giants on Muspelheim, of all things. Poor devils, Tony thought rather sympathetically. The heat was probably worse than torture for them.

Just then, an image of Loki, muzzled and glowering at the ground, passed through his mind.

Tony stopped, frowned, and then walked on, momentarily thrown off by the thought. It had been years since the attack on Earth, and in the face of recent events, the last time the former billionaire had seen the Norse God was also a memory that Tony had shoved back into the “bullshit I can’t be bothered about” section of his brain. He walked down to the end of the line, looped around with an air of inspection, and then started strutting back up once more.

At once, Loki invaded his mind again.

Tony froze, scowled, and was about to question his own sanity when he caught sight of one of the slaves standing just next to him.

The frost giant was so small that he was nearly dwarfed by the other giants’ shadows, but even then he was still taller than Tony. His head was bowed but his shoulders were placed not in the brutish, hulking and powerful stances the other giants had, but of one that had experienced royalty. He stood like the world should be on its knees before him, and there was only one person in the world that Tony knew would stand like that, even when chained and degraded.

Tony moved slowly forward, actions jerky and hesitant. He tilted his head up to stare into the giant’s face, and when the giant turned his half-hidden expression under a curtain of black hair was one of utter blankness. Tony remained as still as possible, hardly daring to believe it. Then, the frost giant’s normally red eyes flashed, for a fraction of a second, into familiar green.

 

Holy shit. It was Loki, the damn trickster, here, in chains and imprisoned by jötunn slave traders. When Thor finds out he was going to destroy another planet.

The eyes flashed again, almost mockingly, and Tony’s brain was already kicking into high gear as he turned to face the irritated jötunns.

“What’re you starin’ at down there?” Snorri growled. “These slaves ain’t for sale.”

“Well if they’re not for sale, then what are you doing with them?” Tony asked, crossing his arms irritably. He mentally congratulated himself for keeping his voice steady.

“They’re not for sale to you,” Volundr added, and Tony sniffed.

“That offends me,” he replied. “Your customer service is of very poor quality.”

“We don’t care,” Snorri snapped, clearly losing patience. He lifted his club, and Tony could see a bit of dried blood crusted at the end of it. “Step back and get on your way before we turn you into a pile of pulp on the ground.”

“Wow. Alright, everybody calm down, I’m simply a customer trying to conduct a transaction here,” Tony said. “Now, are you pointing that weapon at me with lethal intent or are you just getting carried away here?”

“Shut up and move it!” Snorri yelled, raising the club higher. “Last chance, Stark!”

“Alright,” Tony sighed, and tossed his coat aside in one swift motion. Before Snorri could move, Tony’s hand was around his gun and a shot was fired in a puff of white smoke. The modified bullet sliced through the air and met the front of Snorri’s head in a burst of blood and brain. With a casual turn of his body Tony’s next shot nailed Volundr’s bilgesnipe in the soft crevice underneath its plated skull. The bullet exploded and the beast reared, turned over, and instantly crushed Volundr’s leg underneath seven hundred pounds of dead weight. Volundr roared in agony and writhed on the dusty ground, cursing every god known to him.

 

Tony rolled his eyes and holstered his gun, carefully pulling his coat over it again.

“I’m sorry for putting a bullet in your beast,” Tony offered with a shit-eating grin. “But I’m also quite proud of my personal invention; there aren’t a lot of bullets out there that could do such damage to a ride like yours. Just didn’t want you to get carried away, like your friend and his cavemen weaponry over there.”

“You shot Snorri!” Volundr shrieked. “You killed my bilgesnipe! You ruined my leg! You’ll pay for this!”

“I only shot your friend once he threatened me with bodily harm,” Tony said, dusting himself off. “And there are nearly half a dozen witnesses who can attest to that. I have a really good friend who’s into law and politics, you know. She’ll tell you all about legal systems, and all that jazz.”

“Damn you! Uraaagh!”

“Oh, be quiet, you’re annoying me,” Tony grumbled. “If you could keep your caterwauling down to a minimum then maybe you’d like to hear that I’m interested in buying one of those, uh, gentlemen. From you. Now, how much for the young frost giant over there, huh?”

“Auuugrahh!”

“Alright, sold!” Tony said cheerfully, digging his old cheque book out of his pocket. There really had been no use for it anymore, but back on Earth he always had it in his breast pocket, and it just became a nostalgic habit to indulge in even on another planet. He scribbled his name down and drew a smiley face in the amount box. “Time to go, I suppose.”

As Volundr continued to swear and screech, Tony dug through Snorri’s pockets before he came up with several small but intricate brass keys. He walked back over to where Loki stood, staring almost curiously down at him.

“Not a word, damn it,” Tony hissed as he uncuffed the trickster. “Just grab that other bilgesnipe and we’re getting the hell outta here.”

If a god could snort, then that’s exactly what Loki did. With hardly a backwards glance, he stepped out of his shackles and strolled—strolled, the damn suave jerk—across the moor to where Snorri was lying on the ground with his head blown off and the other bilgesnipe was standing morosely. Even with his inferior height, Loki’s scarred back shifted with planes of thick, lean muscle and his chin lifted defiantly.

“Hello there,” Loki whispered, his voice soft as silk as he approached the beast. The bilgesnipe lowed and butted its head lightly against Loki’s extended palm. “I had a mind slave once. You remind me of him. I think I’ll name you Clint.”

Good god, Tony thought with a roll of his eyes. This could not end well.

He looked down at the keys in his hands, and then at the other frost giants standing next to him. Nobody moved a muscle.

“Well, my heart’s not made of ice, is it?” Tony sighed as he reached out, grabbed one of the giant’s massive hands and stuffed the keys into it. “Just get yourselves outta this place too. The freaking humidity’s gonna be the end of me.”

The giant’s eyes widened minutely as Tony hurried back over to his wagon. Fritz wheezed to life when he yanked a lever to get the engine started.

“What d’you think yer doing?!” Volundr cried. “Stop! Thief! I’ll tear you apart for this!”

Tony opened his mouth to give the fire jötunn another witheringly sarcastic reply, but Loki suddenly mounted, err, Clint the bilgesnipe and pulled the reins so that he could face the other frost giants. His expression was cold and dangerous.

“Destroy him,” the god snarled. “That piece of scum of the jötunn race.”

 

Tony’s eyebrows went up, and Volundr blanched.

“Now wait a minute fellas, let’s talk about this!” he shouted, raising his hand pacifyingly. “You gotta be reasonable in a situation like this!”

The frost giants all turned as one towards him, their red eyes no longer lowered to the ground but now set upon their previous captor. Tony yanked another lever and urged Fritz forwards. Loki spared one last glance behind him before turning Clint around too to follow Tony back over the moor.

Behind them, the sounds chains of the slaves were moving were like the rattling bones of the dead.

“I’m not a bad guy, I’m just doin’ my job!” Volundr continued to say. “Didn’t I give you guys my last flask of water? Tell you what boys, take me to the trading post for a healer and I’ll get you yer freedom. Wh-what’re you doin’ with that club? No, no, no, wait—!”

Behind them, there was a deafening crack as blunt wood met skull, and then an agonized wail of pain.

Tony snuck a glance at Loki, and wasn’t particularly surprised to see the frost giant smiling. He twitched when the god, sensing his stare, turned to look at him too.

“Please tell me you’re going to appeal to my humanity,” Loki said with a smirk, and Tony instantly mimed barfing.

“Really, reindeer games? Quoting yourself at me? And to think Natasha thought I was a narcissist.”

Loki turned his nose up, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Tony snickered, and shifted in his uncomfortably warm seat to face the road.

The torturous screams could still be heard over the rumbling of the bilgesnipe and the hissing of Fritz’s gears as they rode quietly away into the distance. Nobody talked again for a very long time.

 


	2. The Bounty Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I look up the most notorious criminals and traders, I track them down with my trusty steed, I kill them, and after I’ve killed them I get my reward then move the body out of my way and continue on my merry way with one less dick occupying this universe. Sometimes I even get a little extra if they’re a real baddie. So in a way it’s still like the superhero gimmick I used to do. Any other questions?”

They were staring.  
The cart wobbled a little precariously on the bumpy roads of the small elven town, making Fritz steam and creak as they rode on. The buildings were tall and narrow, coloured with drab greys and charcoals. There were fine engravings on the posts and around the doorways, curly and flowing. The town might have once looked elegant and beautiful, but now it looked like a place that had experienced one too many rainy days. Everything was monotonous, gloomy, and their appearance seemed be attracting a fair bit of attention, because Tony could feel every single eye boring into the back of his head as he went.  
Well, most eyes, anyway. Eventually everybody’s gaze shifted over to Loki, who was riding smoothly next to him. The frost giant was clearly getting irritated at all of the shameless stares, and he jerked the reins on Clint the bilgesnipe to make the beast low rather threateningly. The strange, willowy beings with pale skin and pointed ears scurried out of their way with suspicious glares. However, those who sat in the safety of their homes did nothing to avert their prying eyes.  
Tony leaned over, face poker straight, and whispered conspiringly to Loki, “What on earth are all those people staring at?”  
Loki’s returning glare could freeze water.  
Chuckling like a mischievous three year old, Tony eased up on the hypothetical pigtail-pulling and motioned for the frost giant to steer his ride over to a little tavern at the corner of the buildings. Steam hissed from Fritz’s nose and sides as Tony finally stilled the machine. He lifted his hat to fix his awfully flat hair as Loki dismounted Clint with an air of haughty grace.  
“What are we doing here?” Loki hissed, immediately grabbing Tony fiercely by the bicep.  
“Whoa, whoa, ease up there, you smurf,” Tony muttered, wrenching himself free. “Just wanted to take a break, yeah? We’ve been on the road for days. I’m sure Clint there is getting tired of your bony ass digging into his back.”  
Loki glowered harshly, fixing the ragged cloak around his slender shoulders. The conversation was far from over, but the frost giant allowed himself to be led into the tavern. It was an old-fashioned building that also may have once been an elegant establishment, but now only had rain-stained walls and peeling wallpaper. There was the harsh smell of spirits and smoke, and there was a rather impressive burn on the counter. The room was empty save for an Elf who was attempting to fix a burnt-out lamp as he wobbled precariously on a stool.  
“Good morning, barkeeper!” Tony called pleasantly, taking his hat and shades off. “Two beers for two worn-out travelers. Won’t say no to whiskey if you’ve got it either.”  
The Elf tilted his head in the direction of Tony’s voice, but he did not turn around. He was patient as he replied, “Tis a bit early, friend. It is not customary for us to drink before the night has fallen.”  
Tony chuckled, wringing the rim of his hat rather absent-mindedly. “Oh, it’s never too early for a drink,” he murmured, so soft that nobody should’ve heard him, but it was Loki who muttered in reply, “You never gave me that drink you promised.”  
Tony spluttered, almost dropping the hat, which caught the Elf’s attention. He turned on the stool, caught sight of the two of them, and promptly let out a high-pitched shriek. He slipped off the stool and fell hard against the counter, dropping his tools against the ground.  
“What in the name of the almighty are you doing, boy?” the Elf yelped. Tony blinked innocently, fiddling with his gloves. Loki rolled his eyes. “That’s a frost giant, that is!”  
“…so?” Tony asked.

The Elf paled. Barely a second later, he was scrambling to his feet and bolting out of the bar like hounds were on his heels. Tony and Loki stepped out of the barkeeper’s way, watching him trip on the doormat and dash out onto the murky street. Cracking a smirk, Tony loped out after the Elf and called with false urgency, “Barkeep! Barkeep! Please get the landlord, if you don’t mind, and not the guards! The landlord!”  
His reply was another wailing scream for help.  
Laughing, Tony walked back into the bar where Loki was running his long, thin fingers over the back of the chair. At a glance, he could almost blend in with the Elves with his lithe form of long hair if it weren’t for his blue skin.  
Shaking the thought out of his head quickly, Tony strolled leisurely back towards the bar, dropping his hat onto one of the tables as he went.  
“Alas,” he sighed dramatically. “We must act as our own bartender. Sit! I’ll get you your drink.”  
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Loki said immediately, although it might’ve been a reflexive thing. He took a seat, leaning back in the creaky chair as he observed Tony with his calculating green eyes.  
“What are you doing?” he asked after a moment of silence. Tony laughed, grabbing two dusty glasses by the counter.  
“I’m a man with a cart and a mechanical horse called Fritz,” he replied. “What d’you think I’m doing?”  
“Clearly not your superhero gimmicks,” Loki snorted, drumming his fingers on the tabletop now. “So what is it now? Charity man? Outlaw? Or is this another crusade for justice across the universe?”  
“Not exactly bad guesses,” Tony said thoughtfully. “Though you’re right; not really much of those superhero gimmicks anymore, but I wouldn’t say no for another go in the suit again. These days I’ve got a new job: bounty hunting.”  
Loki’s eyebrow arched. “Bounty hunting,” he repeated skeptically as Tony pulled a lever, allowing a stream of liquor to flow into the glasses.  
“Whoa, no need to act so surprised. D’you even know what it is?”  
Loki grunted, “No,” he admitted grudgingly. Tony grinned.  
“Well, just as those slave traders deals in frost giants, a bounty hunter deals in corpses,” Tony explained, picking up the glasses and walking over to Loki’s table, setting their drinks down on the scratched surface. “I look up the most notorious criminals and traders, I track them down with my trusty steed, I kill them, and after I’ve killed them I get my reward then move the body out of my way and continue on my merry way with one less dick occupying this universe. Sometimes I even get a little extra if they’re a real baddie. So in a way it’s still like the superhero gimmick I used to do. Any other questions?”  
Loki reached for his glass and glowered at it.  
“You kill people and call yourself a hero?”  
“Certain people,” Tony smirked, taking a long gulp. “Like I said: bad people. Which brings me to you.”  
The frost giant blinked. “Me,” he said dryly.  
“You,” Tony nodded. “I need your help.” 

“My help?”  
“That’s what I said, and I know you’re gonna help.”  
“And why is that?” Loki demanded, crossing his arms. Tony leaned in, schooling his expression into a serious-business-transaction one.  
“I’m going to make an offer you can’t refuse. I’m looking for Brokk.”  
Loki’s eyes flashed minutely in recognition. Jackpot, Tony thought, hiding a smile. The frost giant pushed his untouched glass aside so that he could lean in as well, resting his bony elbows on the table. Taking this as a good sign, Tony continued.  
“So far, I’m out of luck ‘cause I don’t know what that bastard looks like because he’s a shapeshifter, and a damn good one too. But you can see through his tricks, can’t you?”  
“Of course I can, you fool,” Loki said haughtily, eyes burning with barely suppressed anger now.  
“Great!” Tony smirked. “Then I’ve got a plan, believe it or not. You travel with me until we find Brokk, ‘cause I’m still not sure where he’s settled except for the fact that he’s somewhere here, in this Elven realm. That means we visit every little dinky town this planet has until we find him, and when we do, you’ll point him out, I’ll give him a nice wham and bam, and then we’ll continue on.”  
Loki wrinkled his nose. “Must you make everything sound so vulgar?” he grumbled. Tony waggled his eyebrows suggestively just as movement stirred outside, announcing the presence of the landlord and nearly all of the nosy Elves in the whole town.  
“Ah, here we are!” Tony grinned, getting to his feet. Loki followed suit. “Just the Elf I’m looking for!”  
The landlord was a young Elf, his eyes were sharp and a cocky expression on his face. There was a longbow in his hands and a quiver full of arrows strapped to his back over his form-fitting coat— a clear warning. He sauntered in with an air of superiority and annoyance, as though Tony and Loki were insects crawling about.  
“My name is Fëanáro Táralóm, and I can see that you’re causing trouble on my property,” Fëanáro drawled. “It’s time for you to leave these kindly citizens in peace.”

He gestured towards the door, and Tony caught Loki’s eye, jerking his head in an incantation to follow. Scowling, Loki yanked his cloak closer to himself and elbowed Tony aside as they fell into step with Fëanáro. Outside, the mutters and mumbles of the curious bystanders sounded like a swarm of angry bees. Fëanáro spun on his heel, pulling an arrow out and knocking it onto the bow as a cold sneer crept onto his face.  
“Now, why must you people come here and cause trouble in this nice little town and scare everybody? Don’t you have anything better to do other than bringing that disgusting, savage monster into the tavern and setting it loose?”  
It all happened very quickly— Tony’s hand instantly grasped his gun, drew it from its holster, and bang, Fëanáro was screaming as he dropped his bow, clutching at the wound on his stomach. The Elves gasped collectively and even Loki’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Fëanáro collapsed, gurgling in pain as blood bubbled up from the bullet hole. Tony walked calmly around the Elf, his coat billowing.  
“What in the good heavens are you doing?” the horrified barkeeper cried. Tony ignored him as he pointed his gun at Fëanáro once more.  
“The only monster I see here is you,” he said calmly, and pulled the trigger.

Fëanáro’s body jerked as the bullet cracked his skull open and lodged itself firmly into the brain. Barely a second later, all hell broke loose as the Elves shrieked in terror and scattered, dashing for cover. The barkeeper stood with his mouth hanging open, shaking and staring at the landlord’s dead body. Tony twirled his gun and met the Elf’s eyes.  
“Now you can get the guardsmen,” he said, grinning, and the Elf took off once more, screaming as loudly as the ladies that had crowded around before. Tony watched him go for a while before stepping over the landlord’s body to where Loki stood. The frost giant’s expression was strangely blank.  
“That was not a nice Legolas,” he remarked, tucking his weapon away smoothly. Loki’s eyebrows scrunched together, clearly not getting the joke, and Tony threw his hands up in frustration. “Never mind! Back into the bar, I’m not done my drink yet and I hate wasting booze.”  
“We’re going to wait for them to arrest us?”  
“Of course not,” Tony said dismissively, finishing off his drink with a loud slurp. “We’re waiting for justice.”  
“You’ve just killed somebody,” Loki snarled. “And last I checked Elven laws are not particularly kind to those who murder one of their own.”  
“Quit getting your panties into a twist! Figuratively speaking, of course. I doubt you’re actually wearing panties under that thing,” Tony added with a slight smirk. “Do me a favour and keep watch by the window, would you?”  
Loki rolled his eyes in exasperation as Tony took a quick swig of his drink and set it down on the table. His gun joined a moment later, followed by a small leather-bound journal, stuffed full of loose sheets of paper. Tony tugged the clasp open and shifted quickly through the yellowing parchment, tongue sticking out between his teeth.  
“There are Elves approaching,” Loki murmured, peeking through the gap in the curtains.

“How many?”  
“About ten, I suppose. Excluding that blonde-haired, pointy-eared show-off swaggering up the road pointing and shouting like he’s their boss. Which he is, probably.”  
“That’s lovely,” Tony muttered. “Ah-ha! Gotcha,” he grinned, whipping out several pieces of old paper and a black-and-white photograph, giving it a smacking kiss. “Aaaand we’re back in business!”  
“I fail to see how those rags will save us from the dozen arrows pointed at us in this moment,” Loki said dryly, leaning against the wall. Tony wagged a finger and tutted loudly.  
“Never underestimate the power of the written word and photographed proof, my friend,” he said. “It’ll get you places.”  
Loki opened his mouth to respond, but he was cut off by a shout coming from the street.  
“You, in the saloon!” a voice called out. “I am Caranthir Celebrindal, the Head Guardsman of this town. My guards have their bows aimed at every exit to the tavern, and they are skilled enough that they can shoot you down in the dark. Bring that monster out with you, and we will spare you the pain of a dozen sharp points…for now.”  
“I’m not even going to pretend I can pronounce that name,” Tony yelled back. “But it’s a pleasure to meet you, Head Guardsman! My name is Tony Stark and with me is Loki Laufeyson. I believe you’re a follower of the law, am I correct?”  
“Indeed.”  
“Excellent! Now, Guardsman, I’ve relieved myself of all weapons and I’m about to step outside with several sheets of paper and a photograph in hand. Do I have you word that neither me nor Loki will be shot down before we face our trial?”  
There was a pause. Then: “We do not negotiate with criminals.”  
Tony laughed out loud at that, earning him another eye roll from Loki. “But I’ve got a lovely tidbit of information here that I’m sure you’d love to know about that Fëanáro Táralóm I’ve just shot down in the middle of your street. If you kill me, you’ll never know!”  
There was silence again. Tony knew he was playing too close to the fire now, but he’d been banking on the Elves’ high and haughty demeanors. They really didn’t like it when somebody knew something they didn’t, especially outsiders. Loki looked on from the windows, arms crossed over his chest.  
Finally, Caranthir Celebrindal spoke again. “Very well. Step outside with your hands up and you will reveal this secret about Fëanáro Táralóm, who, if you must know, is a much respected landlord that owns several establishments in our town.”  
“Indeed,” Tony replied, and gestured for Loki to follow him. The frost giant glowered.  
“If we die here today I will kill you,” he hissed. Tony merely chuckled before pushing the door open and walking out onto the street. The Elven guard had clustered around the tavern across the street, all with the silver bows nocked and at the ready. An Elf with an elaborate cape and chest plate stood in the middle of the crowd, annoyed.  
“Well?” he asked. “What is it that’s so important about Fëanáro that you know of?”  
“For starters, Fëanáro isn’t actually his real name,” Tony began smoothly. “I’m here to let you know, Head Guardsman, your guard, and apparently the rest of your puny town that the Elf I’ve just shot down in your street was not only a fraud but a wanted criminal by the name of Míriel Tathar who murdered eight innocent bystanders in a town East and has been aiding the illegal trading of frost giants in other parts of this realm. He’s got a price on his head of 200 silver pieces dead or alive. I repeat, dead or alive. Now, seeing as all of your jaws are just about grazing the floor, I’ve got several documents signed and stamped by Míriel Tathar himself relating to the transport of slaves and the transactions related to the traders. If you’re still in doubt, check the basements of his personal properties and you’ll probably find some disturbing sex-dungeon themes going on down there.”  
With that, Tony tossed the documents forwards, and the papers scattered, floating freely towards the guard. Several Elves lowered their bows to pick up the parchment as Caranthir caught the photograph. His eyes widened minutely and his expression turned from one of defiant disbelief to disconcerting loss.  
Tony slowly lowered his hands, and Loki did the same. Tony ran a hand through his hair, and suddenly, he broke out into a grin of childish delight.  
“In other words, Head Guardsman, you owe me 200 silver pieces.”  
The transition of confusion to slack-jawed incredulity on Caranthir’s face finally made Tony burst into riotous laughter while Loki to smirked widely.  
“Interesting,” he murmured, and if Tony could hear the carefully hidden note of approval in Loki’s voice, he knew that Loki could recognize the genuine smile on his face as well.


End file.
